


Senses

by 43degrees



Category: Methyl Ethel (Band)
Genre: Band Fic, Demiromantic Chris Wright, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, RPF, Romance, background jake/thom, rare pair for a rare fandom HA what am i doing with my life?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 03:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/43degrees/pseuds/43degrees
Summary: Jacob has been to Chris' house loads of times and he didn’t think it was a weird thing at all until Alby pointed it out to him.





	Senses

**Author's Note:**

> it's 2k18 but just saying, no offence to those involved~~~~~~~~

He was helping Albert move some furniture out of a room that could be used as a bigger home studio. They’d left the couch til last and had just managed to tilt it on one side before they could slowly wedge it through the narrow doorway. From inside the new studio, Albert had pushed his weight on the couch causing it to fall lopsided into the next room. The action made a gust of wind to whoosh into Jacob’s face, making his hair stick to his sweaty skin. Before helping Albert right the couch, he paused to tie up his hair.

Albert leered at the couch, the cushions having fallen off. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Want me to drop you off after we’re done here?”

“Nah, Christo's gonna pick me up,” Jacob said. He searched through his pockets and found a hair tie in the left pocket of his jeans.

“Oh yeah, didn’t you hang you with him last weekend?”

Jacob slung the hair tie around his wrist and combed his hair with his fingers to tie it into a bun. “Yeah, and we hung out yesterday in the garden. All afternoon.”

“All afternoon,” Albert repeated.

“...Yeah.” Just as Jacob looped the last stretch of the hair tie around the bun, he heard a snap noise and the hair tie flung across the room. Jacob frowned at the broken tie on Albert’s floorboards. “Why’d you say it like that. Is that weird?”

“Chris just doesn’t…” Albert trailed off. He  started to right the couch again, struggling with his end. Jacob helped by pulling the couch toward him. “I mean I haven’t heard of him having anyone over so frequently.”

“What do you mean? Chris hangs out with loads of people all the time,” Jacob replied. He rested the couch on his feet momentarily while he tucked his hair behind his ears, then helped Albert carry the couch into the old studio room.

“Yeah, he goes out and stuff but he doesn’t have people over at his house a lot.”

“Come on, it’s totally normal,” Jacob insisted, “I see you just as much as I see Chris. You’re just being weird about it because you’re incapable of being alone.”

“I never said it was weird. I’m just… commenting, I guess. I don’t know, maybe he likes you.”

“Of course he likes me, he’s my best mate.”

Albert laughed but he didn’t push the issue further. They squared the couch away into its new position and then went back to marvel at the new studio. With the couch gone, there was a lot more space to fit Albert’s recording equipment which was, unfortunately, even heavier than the couch. He and Albert had to push all of their weight on this large black box full of god knows what toward the empty space, but couldn’t make it just with the two of them.

"Can't we unpack it?" Jacob asked.

"Let's just move it, I'll unpack it later," Albert insisted.

They tried again but their shoes slid over the floorboards and Jacob's hair hung over him like a hot ironed curtain and the box barely budged. Jacob lifted off, leaving Albert panting on the ground. He got up and sorted through a drawer in Albert’s desk to find something to tie his hair up with. He found an elastic band which he used to tie his hair into a loose bun, worried that if he were to try and pull the band too tight, it might snap again. Then he returned to help Albert push the box, only to pause with great relief when he heard Chris’ voice hollering through the house.

“Here!” Albert called out hoarsely.

Within moments, Chris joined them in the new studio. He whistled. “Nice new digs!” Then immediately began helping the guys push the box into place.

Jacob straightened, cracked his back a little, and gave Chris a thankful smile.

Albert kept sitting on the ground and leant his head against the box. He wiped his sweaty hand ineffectually across his brow before saying, “See, he wouldn’t do that for me. If you weren’t here, he’d be standing in that doorway laughing at me.”

“That’s not true,” Jacob laughed, but he caught Chris trying to hide a smile.

Albert saw it too, and he deflected a knowing look at Jacob.

Jacob glared at him. “What??!”

Albert put his head in his hands. “Jesus Jacob, you are too blond for your own good.”

 

-

 

Jacob can’t shake the conversation the whole ride to Chris and Jake’s house. Suddenly all the things that he never thought about before, he starts to notice, like how Chris always came to see him at his gigs whether he was working or not. Or how Chris always checked up on him and asked him over no less than two or three times a week, and come to think of it, he doesn’t think he’s seen _anyone_ else besides Jake and sometimes Thom at the house when he’s visited. Which is weird because he’s definitely been invited to the house when other people were also invited. Maybe like, once every two or three months. He’s definitely been to a gathering there and yet…. Of late…. That hasn’t happened.

Is it because he’s stealing all of Chris’ time away? He’s not sure if he would call Chris an introvert but Jacob understands that everyone needs their time away from people, and maybe because Chris is spending so much of his time with Jacob, he’s not getting that downtime. Could Jacob be accidentally sabotaging the rest of Chris’ friendships??

“Hey, how come you don’t have Alby or anyone over anymore?” Jacob asks aloud before biting his tongue when he considers how that might come across as rude.

Chris’ locks fall over his face as he bends down to pop the button on the microwave. He brings out the mug of warm milk and gives it a stir before a skin can form and puts it back in the microwave for another minute.

“Yeah, haven’t had everyone over in a while. Should do soon. Got lots of veges in the garden right now. Could whip up a big pot of vege pasta for the gang. That’d be nice.”

It’s not the response he’s expecting, despite it being really very normal. Because if Chris isn’t bothered by not having seen the rest of his friends in ages, what does it mean if he wants to spend so much time with Jacob? What does it mean that he’s actually totally okay with the amount of time Jacob currently spends with him? What does it mean if Chris might potentially want to see  _more_ of him?  _What does that mean?_

“Probably do Jake some good to have more interaction with other human beings,” Chris adds.

The microwave dings and Chris pulls the mug of hot milk out. He gives it another stir, drops the spoon in his mouth to lick it clean of liquid, then deals out two heaped spoons of chocolate powder into the milk. He stirs again, leaves the spoon in and hands the mug to Jacob. Then Chris picks up his mug filled with hot coffee, turns around and leans on the kitchen bench. The steam from his coffee rises in front of his face, and he gives Jacob a cheeky wink.

Jacob looks down at the clumps of chocolate powder floating on the surface of the milk. He stammers, “Th-thanks.”

He follows Chris out to the back verandah and they sit at the table under the shade of a tall mulberry tree. He holds his mug of hot chocolate to his lips, the drinking-temperature milk pressing against his lower lip, but he doesn’t take a sip just yet. Jacob wishes Albert never said anything. He’s analysing every word, every movement, every little detail now. His heart is in his throat. The sound of cicadas fill the silence that Jacob would normally fill. His hands sweats against the warmth of the mug and the day, and from the thoughts that lather him like a midsummer heatwave.

Meanwhile, Chris is looking perfectly serene. He lounges in the chair opposite Jacob, the afternoon sunlight catching on his golden hair and gilding his profile. And the thing is… Jacob falls in love with people all the time. He falls in love with people on the street, on the bus, in the line at woolies. Most people are so interesting and attractive that he can’t help it. And when they look his way? When they smile at him? When they  _talk_ to him? When they  _make friends_ with him? It’s just heaven really, being surrounded by so many cool, funny, interesting, hot people. It makes his heart swell.

It makes his heart swell impossibly so seeing Chris before him, so comfortable and at peace, so happy to be exactly where he is. And yeah, okay, he would be lying if he said he’d never sexualised his own friends. Only on nights where he can’t sleep and daydreaming about Jake and Thom making out doesn’t send him to the good dreaming times, does his mind wander to other people he knows. And okay, yeah, he’s thought about Chris. He’s thought about Chris a whole lot. He’s thought about what it would be like to lift off those oversized knits he likes to wear in winter, and what it would be like to touch the white-pink skin that holds Chris’ thin frame so tightly, and what it would be like for Chris’ arms to wrap around him and pull him close and what it would be like to feel the warmth of his lips when he kisses Chris.

“You alright?” Chris asks him.

“Y-yeah.”

“Do you want me to heat it up again?”

For a split second, Jacob doesn’t realise that Chris is talking about his drink, as if the situation he’s found himself in couldn’t get any steamier. He refuses to make eye contact with Chris. He stares down at his beverage, drumming his fingers against the mug, his brow furrowing. The silence between them strings out, sticky like chewing gum, nervous teeth marks visible in the concerned expression Chris wears when Jacob chances a look at him.

Jacob’s eyes flutter away. He sets his mug down on the table and says, “It’s fine, it’s a good temperature. You always know just how I like it…” He chokes on his last words, realising yet another thing that Chris does for him, rather lovingly.

He slaps his sweaty hands onto his thighs, his fingernails digging into the denim. A thousand questions run through his head. He needs to block it out, dull his mind, go back to a normal afternoon at his mate’s where they talk and drink hot drinks and enjoy each other’s company. He goes to untie his hair so that he can use the length as some protection to help hide the face journeys he’s surely accidentally expressing, but the elastic band knots into his hair.

He lets out a pained gasp, wincing his eyes shut. He keeps attacking the elastic band, baring his teeth and trying to keep his frustrated noises to a minimum as he worsens his knotted hair. Chris’ chair scrapes across the cement and the next thing he knows, Chris is standing beside him, his hands gently covering Jacob’s frantic ones. Jacob freezes at the tender touch.

“Don’t force it. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Jacob hears Chris’ light steps move away from him. He drops his hands in his lap as if they’d become disconnected from his body. He stares off into the distance, the little leafy garden that makes up the backyard of Chris and Jake’s house transforms into a vortex in space, spiralling inwards, sucking everything into it and taking Jacob’s breath away. He sinks into his chair, the heels of his feet catching into the outer trails of cycling space, and he abotages his few moments of respite to get his shit together by knocking his knee on the underneath of the table which spills his drink over. He sits up straight. His hands shaking. He looks for something to wipe up the spill. Nothing nearby except for the large leaves of attractive ferns. He hears the sliding door shudder along its rusty track and so he resorts to using the hem of his shirt to soak up the milk.

He rights the mug just before Chris gets to him. Chris leans over Jacob, his loose shirt moving just past his ear, and he places a brush on the table. In that moment, Jacob can smell the cologne that Chris uses; scents of cedar, jasmine, rosemary, a hint of sandalwood maybe. The vortex that was sucking him out of this world gives way to the smell of Chris’ musk, to being surrounded by dense rainforests flourishing with life high up in the rustling canopies, and a sense of quiet and sturdiness at the base of moss covered trees.

Machetes interrupt his reverie, slicing through vines and snipping through his hair. Jacob slaps his hands to his head. “What are you doing?!”

Chris places a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, firm at first to calm him, then his grip softens. “It’s fine, it’s done.”

Jacob harbours dread in his stomach. It took him years to grow his hair to its current length. Even if it was a joke, he’s not sure that he could forgive Chris for lopping it all off. But then Chris reaches his arm around and opens his hand in front of Jacob’s eyes, showing him that in his palm lies a chopped elastic band, his blonde hair matted to it.

Chris then drops it on the table. “I learned the hard way too.”

Jacob stares at the elastic band which uncurls like a living thing and then petrifies. Then he feels Chris hold a section of his hair and start brushing it. It hurts at first, the teeth sinking straight into the knots that had formed so quickly, and Jacob lets out a throaty grunt at the pain. But after that, Chris holds the hair just above the knots as he pulls the brush through, gently tugging the strands into place, slowly working the knots out of Jacob’s hair.

He doesn’t normally like it when people brush his hair because they’re not gentle enough, but Chris is doing it just right. Tenderly, intimately. Jacob sits there beneath the shade of the mulberry tree, where the dappled sunlight falls across their bodies, and the summer day keeps them warm and slick. When Jacob leans forward to pick up his mug, Chris follows the movement without yanking his hair, and reverses the move with just as much grace when Jacob settles back in his chair. He sculls the now lukewarm hot chocolate, or what’s left of it.

He can’t believe how he’s never truly noticed how accommodating Chris is with him. Not just now, with Chris brushing his now silky, tangle-free hair, his fingers never jabbing his skull like some people’s do, but touching him carefully, feather soft. And his words too, calming when Jacob needs it, funny when he doesn’t expect it. And his way of being, close, but comfortable, and Jacob had always felt that Chris really  _saw_ him. Really understood him, held him in his gaze when they talked or when they were out, and listened to him and connected with him and holy shit has Chris been in love with him this entire time?

Chris is, yet again, graciously responsive when Jacob leans forward to place the mug on the outdoor table. He then reaches his arm above his shoulder to find the brush in Chris’ hand, moves his hold to Chris’ wrist and he stands, twisting his body and scuttling the chair across the ground and he traces his fingers up the inside of Chris’ arm and curls his hand around Chris’ neck and kisses him.

The hum of summer fills his ears. Chris’ cologne lacquers his nose, mixes with the smell of sweat and the closeness of the mulberry tree. Before Jacob starts to think he’s made the worst decision of his life, there’s a quiet turn in Chris’ lips, a warm taste of his giving lips, chapped, wetted. Remnants of bitter coffee rusts away under the sweetness of this moment.

Chris hums and, like a dream, his arm wraps around Jacob and his hand grasps the small of his back, presses them close, holds them together. Albert’s going to lose his mind when he finds out that he was right.

Jacob doesn’t realise that he’s on the tip of his toes until he has to break away from the kiss to breathe, feels the knock of the cement on his heels, sees the way Chris’s eyes slowly flutter open. A blush burgeons over his cheeks, his clean shaven face wrinkling with a bright smile.

Chris’ hand is still on the small of his back. A heat of their own making between them. Breaths damp and heaving.

“Sorry,” Jacob starts, trying to explain away what he’s just done, “I just really love it when people do a good job at brushing my hair.”

Chris looks down. Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. He caresses the back of Chris’ neck with his thumb, then leans in to kiss him, softly, assuredly.

 

-

 

They didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, in theory, but when Jacob went to visit Albert next, literally the first thing that he told Alby was how he’d kissed Chris. That they’re dating now. That they’re an  _item_. And Albert had grinned and hugged him and opened a bottle of wine.

So things were going really good. So good that Chris actually invites Jacob into his room, which is something new. He’d seen it. Walked passed it. Always looked neat and tidy, and Jacob wondered if Chris was the type to shove all the mess into one cupboard for one guests were over or if it was just always clean. He finds out this answer the more he’s with Chris intimately. He keeps a tidy house. Cleans everything, organises everything. All things have their place, including Jacob. Which is… increasingly… in Chris’ bed.

They lay together in bed with the blankets knotted around their feet and the crisp autumn sun filtering through the windows. Chris strokes his fingers through Jacob’s hair, and Jacob shuffles in close to lay his head on Chris’ chest. From this angle, he can see all of the shelves and little stools and hangers where Chris has positioned various indoor plants, transforming his bedroom into a natural paradise full of ferns and modest flowers and the odd cacti, and complete with a loamy, relaxing odour.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “Have I ever told you how much I love your plants?”

He can hear Chris’ smile through his chest. “Yeah.”

“What are their names? I don’t think I’ve ever asked…”

“Their names… I don’t…”

“You don’t give your plants names??”

Jacob sits up immediately, sitting on his heels. Chris’ hand falls to Jacob’s thigh, his forefinger sneaking under the hem of Jacob’s underwear.

“No, no, no, this won’t do,” Jacob says despite the tingling feeling that Chris instills in him. “You can’t go on like this without giving your children names! What kind of Plant Dad are you??”

Chris looks up at him, his lips parted. Jacob’s mind is screaming at him to kiss Chris but instead he reaches over to pick up the little fern on Chris’ bedside table and examine it closer.

“You can’t look me in the eye and tell me this pretty gal doesn’t look like a Beatrice.”

Chris nods, a soft smile that crinkles his eyes, and his caressing hand deepens a spell over Jacob’s thigh. It almost works if it isn’t for Jacob being set on naming every single plant. Jacob clambers off the bed and starts pointing at every plant, assigning them names that befit the character of the plant.

He’s only halfway through when he says, “You better remember all the names of your plant children, Christopher. It would be really rude to forget.”

“...I think I’m going to forget.”

Jacob pouts. He pauses his mission for a moment to get Chris some assistance. He slings on Chris’ summer dressing gown and marches out of the bedroom in search of pen and paper, then comes back with the necessary materials and a little bonus of having seen Jake and Thom twisted together on the couch not really watching a movie at all. He kneels on the bamboo rug just next to Chris’ bed and starts dividing up the paper and folding them into little cards and then writing the names of the plants on the front. He then sets about placing the name cards in front of each plant, or digging them into the soil for the hanging ones. When he’s done, he sits back down on the rug and tidies up the paper and scissors and pen in a neat pile.

“Looks a bit messy but…” He says as he looks around the room. “You’re not allowed to remove the name cards until you’ve remembered them all. Do you like them? I like them. I hope you like them.”

He’s just pushing the pile of materials out of the way when Chris lopes off the bed and entangles his limbs around Jacob, pushing him flat on the ground.

“I love you,” Chris says into his neck, kissing him there and then rising up to kiss Jacob’s lips.

 

-

 

It actually takes Jacob hours to realise that Chris didn’t say ‘I love them’ in reference to the names of his plant babies, but that he had said ‘I love you’ to Jacob the human boyfriend. He guesses he’d been a little distracted with the passionate make out sesh that promptly proceeded. It was only afterwards when Chris dropped him off at his house and he was taking his shoes off inside that he really started to process the words. He’d had to sink down to the ground and stare up at the wall lined with family photos and consider that one day, there could be one of him and Chris there.

And Chris does take a while to learn all the names, which Jacob forgives because there was like 27. But somehow, and Jacob’s really unsure about how he’s done it exactly, Chris has been able to memorise all the names. All 27. And he thinks that’s pretty impressive considering most of the cards got all soggy and illegible whenever it was Jacob’s turn to spritz the spray bottle over the plants. He tries to be as neat as Chris in watering the thirsty plants, but he’s a bitch thirsty for Chris so obviously he’s going to get what he wants first.

“I know you just got your training wheels off but I hope you’ll be able to remember just one more,” Jacob says, removing the gift he’d been hiding behind his back and sheepishly offering it to Chris.

Chris takes it into his hands, cradling it like a baby chick.

“I know it doesn’t look like much. It’s just jasmine.”

“I love jasmine,” Chris says and by now Jacob takes that as codeword for that Chris loves Jacob. Says he loves this song? He loves Jacob. Says he loves the weather? Loves Jacob. Maybe he’s self-centred, maybe Chris just truly loves him like he’s never been loved before.

“I picked jasmine because it smells like you, it reminds me of you.”

“Thank you,” Chris says in his warm voice and he kisses him and the way that he kisses and holds him and touches him and takes tender care of him makes Jacob believe that he’s right. That they’re in love.


End file.
